Moriarty by John Gardner Read Free Book Online Page A

be there and in which room she was to be lodged.
    â€œMrs. James?” It was definitely Idle Jack. In the back of his head Daniel had the picture of him, there next to the bed, grinning his wolfish grin.
    Hello, Daniel, we have need to talk
.
    â€œThat’s what she called herself.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œYou know who.”
    There was a pause, maybe the space of two beats, then the hands were on him again and he was submerged once more, fighting for his life; and this was the worst yet, making him urinate in his trousers, brought to a fever of fear. He seemed to be out of air for longer than he could remember, taking a great gulp of water in, choking, and finally suffering the red mist, then the darkness as he hit unconsciousness.
    â€œThat’ll teach you to play the old soldier with me, young Daniel,” Idle Jack said, his voice hard as a grindstone.
    Carbonardo vomited water back into the bath, his lungs wheezing with the dregs still remaining.
    â€œWho was this Mrs. James, Daniel? Tell me everything now, and tell me true.”
    â€œSal Hodges: the woman in charge of Moriarty’s girls, the whores and the dollymops, the perfect ladies and nightwalkers, those in his knocking houses.”
    â€œHe had many such houses?”
    â€œSome ten in the West End and several smaller shops elsewhere, places of sixpenny sinfulness. In the suburbs mainly.”
    â€œReally? He should count again, I think. The Professor has been away too long and when the cat’s away, the mice … Well, you know how it goes, Daniel.”
    Nearby, somebody chuckled.
    In his mind, Daniel Carbonardo could see the man, Idle Jack, whose father had been called “Farmer Idell” because of his ruddy complexion, the loping walk as though he tended a plough, and his slack-jawed face. Indeed,
Punch
, the 3d-a-week comic magazine, had oncepublished a cartoon of him as “Farmer Idell catching flies as he speaks to his farm labourers.” The drawing showed Roderick Idell—old “Roister” himself, mouth drooping as he harangued a group of politicians over whom he held much sway. The son, Jack, was very like his father, and he exploited the somewhat foolish expression of his face by pretending to be “sixpence to a shilling,” as the wags called it. He was, of course, sharp as a needle and dangerous as an angry adder.
    â€œIf you should see Moriarty again—which I would not advise—I’d tell him to take a good look at some of his pleasure houses. They don’t all pay their profits to him anymore. Now, what did he want with Mrs. James, Danny?”
    â€œHe was after intelligence. He thinks someone near to him has committed treachery, supplying an enemy with hard facts about him and his plans.”
    â€œSo, what has this to do with Sal Hodges? He and Sal were as close as wax.”
    â€œI don’t know. He had suspicions. Said Sal would know who the traitor is.”
    She’ll know, Daniel. Sal Hodges’ll know, mark me
.
    â€œAnd you were to squeeze the juice from the plum, eh?”
    â€œThem were my orders, yes.”
    There was the sound of shuffling from among the people at the end of the room, as though they were acknowledging some kind of truth.
    â€œGood. You’re a sensible man. Far more sensible than I expected from one who takes orders from the Professor.”
    Daniel was about to try and speak, but he prudently changed his mind.
    Idle Jack continued, quietly, “Will you take some advice from me, Daniel? Will you?”
    He nodded, and Idle Jack roared, “Will you, Daniel?”
    â€œYes,” he croaked.
    â€œTake yourself out of London, then. Take yourself into the country and hide yourself away. Get a job in some country school, maybe, as fencing master or in teaching calisthenics in a school for young women. Just disappear. You follow me?”
    â€œI follow you, sir. Yes.”
    â€œI warn you, Carbonardo, if you